Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Midoriya’s mouth was dry, his eyes were sticky, and he was the most well-rested he had been in weeks- months.

Pushing his arms out, he hissed when his right arm twinged, but other than that they were… pretty okay. Normally his arm was worse, but thank goodness it was as good as it was.

A warm weight shifted on top of him, before moving and slithering off. He hummed in confusion, before prying an eye open.

It took him a moment to focus, but the image slowly sharpened into a room with cool grey walls and a desk on one side.

He had shot upright before he remembered the events of last night. His shoulders slumped, and he blinked again. 

Half of him was deeply grateful and happy about this, but the other really, really just wanted to go home already, because his mom would be freaking out at this point-

Wait. Wait, yeah. That happened. Nevermind, then.

A warm thing nosed at his arm, and he looked down to see a huge ginger and white cat blinking at him with amber eyes. Raising his arm hesitantly, the cat let out a meow ( why was it so high-pitched, what the heck this cat is huge but it sounds like a baby- ) and pushed its head into his hand. Gently petting the cat’s back, he swung his legs out of the bed from under the warm covers, and noted that he was still wearing his UA uniform from when he had forgotten to change. That was going to be a pain to iron out.

Bracing his arms on the mattress behind him, he counted to 3 in his head and, on 3, pushed himself up.

His head spun a tiny bit at the change in where it was, but he didn’t instantly collapse back onto the bed. Go him! 

Taking a step, he grinned at himself when he didn’t wobble or anything. Stretching his back out, the amount of pops and cracking noises should probably have worried him, but he knew it was probably because a cat was sleeping on his spine. 

Ambling to the door, he put his hand on the doorknob just before someone knocked. Blinking at the door, he opened it and revealed Shinsou. He blinked, before raising an eyebrow.

“Well, welcome back to the living world, Aurora. Dad’s in the kitchen, he’s making food.” He turned around and started walking away, and Midoriya just stared at him. What did he mean by Aurora?

Ignoring it for now, he trudged down the hall, trying in vain to straighten his outfit a little. A burst of hushed cursing from down the hall made him jump, and his head whipped over to where the living room was, where the noise was coming from. Hesitantly walking out into the living room, he took one look at what was happening before stopping dead in place.

A seemingly zombified Present Mic was drifting around the room, a steaming cup of coffee in his grasp. Shinsou was cursing and chasing a gunmetal and white streak around the floor, and Aizawa was shaking a spatula in the air while chasing Shinsou, pink apron straps fluttering behind him. Somehow they were all avoiding Present Mic, and he wondered if this was a normal situation. Shinsou glanced his way, and then the blur dashed behind Midoriya and Shinsou screeched to a halt.

“Sweetpea, I swear-” Meowing from behind Midoriya, and he awkwardly twisted to see a gunmetal gray cat with a white underbelly and striking green eyes licking its chest, dare he say, smugly. Under its paw was a black face mask, white outlining a pattern he couldn’t quite make out. He turned back to Shinsou, who was raking a hand through his hair. With a sigh, he gestured to the cat.

“Midoriya, meet Sweetpea. She’s adorable and sweet, until she steals something of value and never lets it go.” Sweetpea chittered at them both, before snatching the face mask in her jaw and trotting down the hall, tail high in the air. At the end of the hall, a smaller dark tabby with hazel eyes and pure white paws jumped out at her, sending her to the floor.

“Aaaaaaand that one’s Smokey, she’s the first cat we got and a spaz. She will lick you one moment, and be chewing on you the next. Beware.” Aizawa snorted from behind the purplette.

“Hitoshi, you’re the only one she chews.” With an offended gasp, Shinsou grabbed a sock Midoriya hadn’t seen and chucked it at his teacher, nailing him in the shoulder.

“Rude, kid.”
“Anyways! The huge light ginger, with the white belly and paws? He’s Marlowe, he weighs over 20 pounds, and he is a very good replacement for a weighted blanket. Will sit on you, but only if you have that blue and cream blanket on.” Pointing to where Mic had taken a seat, there was a blue and cream blanket draped across his lap that looked… distinctly furry. The blond man, now looking decidedly more awake, sent a happy wave to Midoriya.

“ Hey, kiddo! ” Midoriya blinked, responding before he knew he did.

“ Hi, sensei! ” Mic just stared at him, before throwing his head back and laughing.

“ Great English, Midoriya! ” Midoriya looked down, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket as a warm flush rose to his face. A chuckle from Mic, before Aizawa butted in.

“Yama, leave him alone, he’s going to self-combust at this point. Midoriya, do you need to change out of anything?” His tone had a hidden inflection that had Midoriya furrowing his eyebrows, before realization shot through him.

“Ah- um, do you have any of my clothes?” Shinsou looked him up and down, before declaring:

“You’re tiny. I’ll let you borrow a sweater and leggings or something from me for today, and we can go shopping soon and/or get your clothes from your mot-” A loud yawn interrupted Shinsou, and he groaned. Midoriya followed his gaze just in time to see Midnight pop her head up over the edge of the couch, arms stretching up and over as she arched her back, bare shoulders popping into view. Following those were-

Midoriya squeaked and went bright red, clapping a hand over his eyes. Almost in the same instant, he felt Shinsou smack his own hand over his, another smacking noise giving away him covering his own eyes.

“ AUNTIE NEMURI !”
“Nemuri Kayama, you do not sleep naked in my house-”

“Our house, babe.”

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is that we have a guest and they did not want to see that-”
“Midoriya’s out here?!? Hon, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t apologize until you fix it, Nemuri! ”
“Teacher voice, Aizawa!” Shinsou shuddered, before whispering into his ear.

“Midoriya, we are moving backwards and into my room, okay?” Midoriya nodded frantically, almost stumbling over Shinsou in their collective haste to get out of the room. 

Aizawa did not let his glare to the ceiling fade until Nemuri tapped his shoulder, now wearing a pajama shirt and basketball shorts. The contrite expression on her face was almost enough to make up for it, but he still shoved the spatula at her with a huff. Pouting at him, she still snatched the spatula and marched into the kitchen, grumbling light-heartedly. It had been established months before that if any of them broke the rules at the other’s house, they cooked/finished whatever meal was next. Simple rules.

And Nemuri had broken that rule on the first day they had Midoriya living with them. 

Seriously, she couldn’t have waited to scar the kid?

He looked at his phone, groaning when the alarm went off.
“Crud, I forgot that today’s a mandatory day for me…” UA normally had a pretty lax teaching schedule, with a multitude of pros and teachers ready and willing to step in in place of a teacher. But every homeroom teacher had at least three mandatory days a month, and today was one of Aizawa’s. 

If he was honest, he wanted to be in class. He wanted to, in a twisted, vengeful way, be the one to rip the very dreams Bakugou had once destroyed out from under him.

But Midoriya needed an adult there, and… he might need that stability more than Bakugou needed to be disciplined.

“Yo, Shouta, I got him.” Their gazes turned to Midnight, who was carting a stack of pancakes onto the table.

“I don’t have a class today, so I can chill with him here. Go take care of your class and teach something worthwhile, I know you’re already drafting a plan in that big brain of yours.” Lazily waving a hand through the hair, she whipped her hair into a low ponytail with a white hair tie, the color sharply contrasting. Aizawa would never admit it, but he hesitated. Midoriya couldn’t be in an unstable environment just after being uprooted, that was a recipe for disaster.

“Chillax, Shouta! I won’t hurt him! You know me, responsible!” Aizawa stared at her, gauging her face. She looked genuinely sorry for earlier, and she was responsible with children…

“Fine. But any, any , problems arise and call me.” She nodded, holding her hands up. 

“Promise, Shouta!” Hizashi glanced at the kitchen doorway, raising an eyebrow.

“The kiddos have taken a while…”

As if on cue:

“Gentleheroes and ladyheroines, I present to you…” Shinsou swanned into the room in his UA uniform, gesturing widely to the doorway behind him.

“Miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiidoriya Izuuuuuuuuukuuuuuuuu!” He announced the other boy’s arrival like a sports announcer, before Midoriya edged into the room, burning face buried in sweater paws and inconspicuous arms pressing his chest flat.

All of Shinsou’s sweaters would be too big, so he had obviously given Midoriya the smallest he had. A pair of way-too-small leggings (for Shinsou, obviously) fit him almost perfectly, just a little too short. 

“Welcome to breakfast a la Midnight, Midoriya! Come sit, we have a wide selection of egg and pancakes, maybe a sausage-” She turned to Hizashi, who had already crammed half of the sausages into his mouth.

“-okay, maybe not sausages, buuuuuut there’s bacon!” Aizawa raised an eyebrow, taking a piece of bacon and plopping it onto a pancake, putting egg on top and wrapping it. Nemuri gasped, apparently scandalized, but Midoriya just looked interested. He gestured with the amalgamation:

“Burrito.” Nodding in understanding, Midoriya snagged a pancake for himself, scooping some eggs onto his plate to accompany. 

An alarm went off on Aizawa’s phone, and almost instantly he, Hizashi, and Shinsou groaned in tandem. Midoriya looked up curiously as the three started preparing, Aizawa grabbing his sleeping bag and Shinsou slinging a bag across his shoulder. Hizashi leaned forward and grabbed a travel mug of coffee before speaking, all three walking out the door as he called backwards.

“Well, we’re out! Take care, Midoriya, Nemuri, don’t traumatize him, bye!” 

Uraraka shifted, eyes going exactly where tens of other eyes were aimed.

Midoriya’s desk was empty, and he was never absent unless he broke a bone.

...On second thought, he probably did break a bone. It didn’t quell the anxious nerves swelling in her stomach.

Aizawa had been dragging a skinny, emaciated man next to him, eyes literally burning in anger. He had said Midoriya wouldn’t be joining them for the walk home, and she was honestly rather worried for her friend. The streets were dangerous when it was as dark as it was last night! 

“Settle down.” She jumped, as did half the class, when Aizawa popped out of nowhere.

He was… tense. The set of his shoulders, the way he held his sleeping bag in a white-knuckled grip, the harsh squeal of the chalk he clung to as he scrawled something furiously on the board.

“Today’s original lesson has been… suspended in favor of learning something else, arguably more important. Pay attention, you never know when you’ll need this information.”
Yaoyorozu spoke up, voice just slightly shaky.
“S-sir, where is Midoriya?” 

“Midoriya is not attending today.” He dragged the chalk across the board with a squeal, underlining the harsh words and making everyone except Bakugou wince and shelter their ears. Turning around, he moved out of the way so that everyone could see what the board read. As she took in the words, Uraraka felt her heart collapse into her stomach, eyes widening and face paling. Her thoughts shot to Midoriya. Aizawa had never changed a lesson on such short notice before, but… if something bad had happened… 

ABUSE, NEGLECT, AND BULLYING- SIGNS, PREVENTION, SAVING, AFTERMATH

Shinsou picked at his nails, sat in the very back of class. They were going over how to bandage a wound, which he really didn’t need to know considering his parents’ professions, and he was worried.

Midoriya had freaked out when he was actually faced with the idea of borrowing clothes, and if he hadn’t been from a (technically) abusive home, he would have smacked him up the head for being stupid. It wasn’t getting in the way when you needed clothes, it was self-care! Part of Shinsou wanted to know just what had happened to Midoriya where he thought taking care of himself was a burden, but half of him knew not to pry and the other half didn’t really want to know.

The lunch bell would ring soon, so at least there was that. 

“Excuse me.” The whole class’ attention swiveled to-

Aizawa?

“Could I borrow Shinsou?” Their teacher, a warm foreign woman named Ms. Abigail, blinked before smiling.

“Ah, is it for…”

“Yes.”

“Of course. Shinsou, take your stuff with you.” He grabbed his bag and stood up, waving goodbye at Ms Abigail before leaving. 

They walked a hallway or two away from 1-C’s classroom, before Shinsou spoke up.

“So… what did you need me for?”
“Just listen and stand there. We also might need you to keep Bakugou from exploding the classroom.” Shinsou blinked.

“Um. One: what, and two: what. ”

“Trust me, it’ll make sense in a moment.”

They had arrived at 1-A’s classroom, and Aizawa opened the door without theatrics. He gestured Shinsou in, and he took a moment to assess the room.
Almost everyone looked numb, some dragging their eyes up to look at them but most staring at a paper worksheet on their desk. One was the gravity girl from the Sports Festival, the one who almost won against Bakugou. She was an exception, eyes not dull, but bright in anger and sadness. He couldn’t hold the question in.

“Eraserhead, what did you do to them?” Almost as soon as he spoke, the life in the room rose. Half of them jerked in their seat, staring in confusion at the intruder. The other got some life in their eyes, now that they were processing something other than whatever was on the worksheet. 

“Bakugou, get your stuff and meet me outside. Shinsou, for now take his seat.”
“WHAT?” The spiky blond roared, shooting upright and slamming smoking palms onto his desk. Aizawa leveled a burning glare at him, and he huffed and stomped through the room, clenching his backpack in a white-knuckle grip. Shinsou picked his way through the room and slung his backpack onto the back of the chair, plopping down in it. Idly he realized that the sheet of paper was burnt and scorched, now unreadable. Taking a glance at the words written on the board-

Oh. 

Now the class’ reaction made sense. They had probably learned a harsh truth today.

Before he could talk, the gravity girl spoke up.

“Uh, Shinsou… right?” At his nod she continued.

“Do… I don’t know if you do, but do you have any clue where Midoriya is?” He gauged his choice of answers.

1: He lies and makes everything worse.

2: He tells the truth and probably gets in trouble.

3: He tells half of the truth and hopefully stays out of trouble? If they infer it’s not his fault, is it?

“Uh, I can’t say anything. Like, legally.”

…

That was not what he wanted to say.

At the shocked gasps by several people, they could indeed infer the hidden meaning in his words.

Double crud.

Uraraka let a breath out slowly, taking in what she had just learned. 

She wasn’t stupid. She knew that today’s lesson was related to Midoriya’s disappearance, the man Aizawa had been dragging behind him last night. She knew that something was wrong with Midoriya’s home, the way he flinched at contact and seemed unable to take a compliment.

She knew something was wrong.

So why hadn’t she intervened earlier?

She had reasoned her own worry away- telling herself that Midoriya was just like that , that his mom was sweet, even though there never seemed to be enough food in the cabinet (she had no right to judge there), that whenever he lit up when his mom smiled at him when she and Iida were over was because he was a mama's boy.

Now, she was kicking herself in the shin because it was obvious.

He wasn’t like that , he had been bullied into being that. His mom was sweet with company, but alone she must have been cold, distant, ignorant. He lit up when his mom smiled at him because she normally didn’t even look at him.

...Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but she couldn’t shake the worst-case scenario from her head. Couldn’t shake the image of a tiny, green-haired kid curled up, nursing a scar where a bully had pushed him into a sharp corner or broken skin, hoping praying that he’d get attention from his mom. Couldn’t dismiss the idea of her best ****ing friend forced to cook his own food, wrap his own scrapes and cuts from practice, all because his mother didn’t want to care for him.

But at the same time…

She didn’t look like someone who’d neglect a kid. She always seemed to hover, on the edge of the room, just barely visible.

Almost instantly, her mind conjured a whole new situation. One that felt like a block of duralumin sinking to the pit of her stomach.

They’d talked about how over possessiveness, overprotectiveness, could be classified as neglect and abuse.

Shaking herself firmly, she smacked her hands to her cheeks and let a shaky breath out. She couldn’t keep thinking about it. That’d just lead to her believing things false, jumping to conclusions, and making a mess of everything. 

She had to wait. She had to wait until it was explained and-

BANG-pop-pop-pop!

Everyone jumped at the same time. Startled curses burst out of half the class, and the other half grasped their chest and gasped for air.

That had been louder than his normal crackling, warning explosions.

Bakugou was mad. 

Midoriya shifted on the couch, knees pressing against his chest. He glanced awkwardly at Midnig-Nemuri, who was sprawled out over the other armchair. It was maroon, and there were buttons of a sort in the arm she was playing with. He blinked slowly, eyes drifting over the room.

This whole thing felt surreal. He listlessly messed with his phone, turning it on and off and back on again, when it started buzzing and flashing up.

Mom is calling…

Mom is calling…

Mom is calling…

Midoriya felt himself freeze. 

All of a sudden, he was hyper-aware of his situation. He hadn’t gone home, oh gosh, she knew and she was calling him with that stupid function that locked his phone onto speaker mode, she was going to take him back and ground him, take him out of UA-

“Hello?” Nemuri’s sultry, smooth voice filled the room as she picked up the phone, carefully neutral. 

‘Izumi, darling, w… You’re not Izumi. Who are you, and where is my daughter?’ Nemuri’s dark eyes flit to him and locked their gazes as she responded.

“Your son has been made a ward of UA, and you no longer have a claim over him. Izuku is perfectly safe.”

‘Oh, she’s still doing that. I apologize, she doesn’t understand that you can’t change your identity. I’ll talk to her. Why is Izumi being made a ward?’

“ He is mentally and emotionally unable to return to you. He has been neglected by you and he is not safe with you. And his name is Izuku , I do ask you to use it.”

‘How dare you? Izumi is my daughter, and I will decide the way I address her . I gave birth to her, and I will decide how she presents herself and how she identifies.’

“Are you Izuku?”

‘Izumi-’

“Izuku.”

‘Izumi is my daughter, she will listen to me! Izumi, honey, come home right now, I know you’re listening-’

“Listen up, Mrs. Midoriya. Midoriya Izumi isn’t his name anymore. Midoriya Izuku is your son , and you need to accept that.” Nemuri’s voice was cold and hard, making him shiver as he hugged himself tighter.

‘How… how dare you? Izumi is my child! I gave birth to her, I can decide what I accept of her or not!’

“Well, he’s not in your care anymore, so you can’t decide his life for him anymore. Good day, ma’am.” Nemuri hung up and locked the phone, placing it on the coffee table.

Midoriya couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had just been forced out to his teacher, what if she didn’t accept him what if she was mean about it what if she outed him to the class-

“Midoriya, I need you to breathe with me, okay?” He was snapped out of it by Nemuri herself, a soft hand curling around his own and sharp stiletto nails gently poking his tanned skin. 

“Okay, Midoriya, okay. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight with me, okay?” She inhaled loudly, exaggeratedly, and her exhales whooshed out of her loud enough for him to hear. 

She breathed in, out, again, and again, and again, and soon enough he found himself breathing along with her. 

It was quiet in the house. The cats weren’t even crunching at their kibble, or meowing. The only sound was Nemuri and his breathing.

“Love, are you…” Midoriya stiffened a bit, leaning forward and burying his head in her neck. If she pushed him away, so be it. Nodding slowly, he screwed his eyes shut and waited for the verdict.

“I’m so, so proud of you for sticking with what you believe about yourself, hon.”

What…?

“I know what it can be like, growing up in a world where you’re assigned a different gender at birth than what you identify as.” Blinking, Midoriya tilted his head a bit. Was Nemuri-

“Yeah, I know what you’re thinking right now. Was outed in my first year, and I’ve been open about it since I was a second year here, sitting in that same number you are right now.” Midoriya pushed himself up, looking into her eyes in surprise.

“Y-You were student 18?”

“Yep! If you look really closely under the desk, I wrote my name on it, along with Aizawa at desk 14 and Hizashi at desk 13! So… yeah. I get how it feels to go against the world’s expectations.” He hummed, thinking about that. Leaning back into Nemuri’s side, he mumbled something he hoped she’d hear.

“You pass really well…” She chuckled, wrapping an arm around him and wiggling until they were leaning back on the couch.

“Well, you pass really well too.”

The warm flutters that filled Midoriya’s heavy chest at that simple statement lulled him to sleep.

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, plopping his burnt capture weapon onto the desk and dropping into his seat. 

Unsurprisingly, Bakugou had not been open to his new classroom assignment. It had taken the rest of the day for everything to be finalized, and his capture weapon had taken a beating. He almost felt bad placing him into a Quirkless woman’s classroom, but he personally knew that Ms. Abigail would take zero messing around from him. She was the unofficial mother of the staff, and could often be found in the teacher’s lounge whipping up a fluffy, dense cake for after an especially rough day or carefully monitoring a CrockPot of hot cocoa.

She was also rather well-known for dragging teachers by the ear to a couch when they weren’t getting enough sleep and being ferocious if people put her colleagues and students in danger.

Not only that, she had a degree in therapy and mental wellness. Aizawa wanted Midoriya to meet her- he had a feeling the two would get along swimmingly. It would help Midoriya if he had someone to relate to- a Quirkless survivor, and Ms. Abigail would love the chance to help someone who had gone through childhood as she had. 

Yeah. He’d have Ms. Abigail speak to Midoriya. 

Aizawa creaked his apartment door open slowly, not sure what he was going to barge into. Kayama had texted him about two hours before telling him to be quiet as he came in, and he had forwarded the text to ‘Zashi and Hitoshi. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, maybe Midoriya panicking or something wrong, but the sight he walked in on was a lot more… domestic than he expected.

Midoriya was huddled up on Kayama, face soft in sleep. Kayama was sleeping too, one arm limply curled around the teen on her stomach. Her other arm was dangling off the couch, phone on the floor next to it. She must’ve passed out right after sending that text. 

Letting a small smile crease his face, he snapped a picture of the two and sent it to Hizashi and Hitoshi. 

It looked like Midoriya was letting people in.

Midoriya walked through the classroom door quietly, not disrupting, not making a noise. It would be hard to tell he was even there if you were invested in a lesson.

Half the class jumped out of their seats and threw themselves at him as he walked past the front, and the other half called his name with delight. 

It had been a month since Aizawa had taken in the teen, and the teen had barely flinched when his classmates glomped him.

(Don’t ask Aizawa why he knows that term. He didn’t want to remember Kayama’s furry phase.)

“SWEETPEA, I SWEAR TO ALL MIGHT HIMSELF I WILL SMITE YOU-”

“Shinsou! Be nice to Sweetpea!”

“SHE IS A DEMON, MIDORIYA! D-E! M-O! N !” 

“No, she’s a sweet baby girl that’s done no wrong! There’s a distinct difference!”

“SHE H A T E S ME!”

“Well, that’s your problem.”

“YOU LITTLE-” Midoriya’s squeal as he was presumably bowled over by Hitoshi was quickly cut off by bright laughter (Hitoshi undoubtedly exploiting Midoriya’s almost astounding ticklishness yet again), and Aizawa repressed a smile as he shook his head. It’d been two months since Midoriya had opened up (one since he’d started school again), and he had gotten along with Hitoshi rather quickly. He was willing to tease the elder, which was something Aizawa hadn’t seen him do with any other friends. 

It was a refreshing change of pace from his normal meek, quiet self during class. 

It had been almost three months since Midoriya had been put in Aizawa’s home, and the training camp had been cancelled. Midoriya had pouted and whined about not being able to train over the summer, even with the looming threat of the League of Villains. Aizawa rolled his eyes and noogied the kid in annoyance, but he couldn’t quash the warm feeling that Midoriya trusted him enough to whine around him. To act like a normal teenager for once.

It had been three months since Midoriya had been removed from Inko’s care, and he was coming home from his first therapy session. He was carrying a plate of Ms. Abigail’s fudgy brownies, with stars in his eyes and words spilling off his tongue. 

It was the first time he’d seen Midoriya rant, and the first time he’d seen Midoriya’s analysis skills.

It had been three and a half months since Midoriya had learned to trust Aizawa, and he was calling in the middle of work studies.

Aizawa talked the kid through a panic attack as he sobbed into the receiver, recounting Sir Nighteye’s unjust, unfair, wrong treatment of him the whole time. 

Aizawa had reminded the kid that he wasn’t just anyone, he was Deku, and he was strong. He reassured him with that Nighteye was being stupid, that he well deserved One for All.

Not a week later, Deku had taken down a Class-SS villain and yakuza boss.

It had been five months of Midoriya in Aizawa’s care. 

The class was doing a rescue simulation in the USJ, and he couldn’t help but notice how all of the class steered well away from the main plaza. He couldn’t not notice the way that they avoided it like the plague, how if they stepped foot in it they would sprint out again as fast as possible.

No one stepped on the spot where he vividly remembered laying limply, hulking mass of muscle pinning him down.

A metal-clad foot pounded firmly down onto that one spot everyone was avoiding, a green-clad hero following. 

Deku raised his fist and lit up in green energy, victory over the ‘villains’ being celebrated. The rest of the class slowly trickled around him, all united by him. Cheers and celebration filled the air, the site of a once-loss becoming one of victory.

Aizawa felt a rare grin crease his face as he shook his head.

His class was going to be the death of him one day.

It had been six months since Midoriya had become an honorary Aizawa-Yamada. 

And, for the first time…

“Hitoshi! Stop annoying Smokey!”

“Trash baby.”

“No!”

“Stinky gremlin gorl.”

“Noo! Be nice to her!”

“This little vampiress deserves no mercy.”

“Nooooooo!”

“Dad! Be careful! That pot’s gonna- oh, great save, Pops!” 

“Yeah Pops, nice save.”

“Hitoshi, save the sass. Your Pops is dead now.”

“Hey, Izuku.”

“Yeah?”

“My name is Shinsou Hitoshi. You killed my Pops. Prepare to die.”

“Hito, nO-!”

It had been one year since Izuku had joined the family, and half a year since it had been made official.

Aizawa smiled to himself, reclining on the couch. ‘Zashi was peacefully snoozing next to him, and Aizawa Izuku was sprawled out across the floor with Sweetpea kneading his arm. Yamada Hitoshi was on the ugly purple armchair he had gotten for his 17th birthday, and Kayama was on that horrible maroon recliner with a telephone in the arm. It was calm, quiet, and peaceful.

Until Izuku’s phone began to ring. 

The greenette lazily picked his head up and looked at the caller. Snorting, he muted it and tossed the phone across the room. Aizawa raised an eyebrow, puffing a strand of black hair out of his eyes.

“Inko?”

“Inko.” They settled back down and soon, sleep claimed them, oblivious to the phone screen lit up across the living room.

It's been two weeks since the Aizawa-Yamada family disappeared. All that was left was a text on an almost-dead phone.

Find them 

If you can